Ceasefire
by HawthornBlood141
Summary: A glimpse at Ron's eighteenth birthday during the Horcruxes hunt. R/Hr. Ron's POV.


**A/N : Again, thank you MsBinns for your help Beta reading this and your insight.**

* * *

He is keeping watch outside, it's a gloomy day, just as he expected it would be.

He hears light footsteps, and would recognise them anywhere.

_Hermione's._

Since he came back, she has been giving him the cold shoulder and he can't say he blames her. They have only exchanged brief and careful talks and though he is getting tired of walking on eggshells around her, he will, as long as he'll need to. He loves her and he will give her all the time she'll need, in hope that one day just maybe, she will begin to forgive him for something he will never forgive himself.

She sits carefully next to him, close enough that her right knee lightly brushes his left. He tries to hold back the joyful leap his heart just did and keeps his eyes focused on the forest in front of him.

She silently passes him a plate and he accepts it gratefully as his stomach growls loudly as the smell of food fills his nostrils.

As he mutters a polite 'thank you', he hears her chuckles softly at his body's reaction.

Again, his heart leaps.

Pushing his luck further, since she appears to be in a good mood, he decides to make small talk, practically inhaling the soup beforehand.

"What's Harry doing?"

"Sleeping."

_Right._

Not even a full sentence, maybe not too chatty then. He feels his brightened mood getting somber. He still tries anyway.

"The soup was good. Did you do anything different?"

He chances casting a look at her, and watches her cheeks turn a pretty shade of pink, her eyes resolutely focused straight ahead of them.

"Not really, I found mushrooms and Harry caught some fish earlier, I wasn't sure it would work out," she shrugs her shoulders and her eyes furtively meet his before resting on the book she's holding in her lap.

He is still unapologetically watching her, carefully breathing, afraid to move and break their peaceful moment. She looks so pretty in the dim morning light. The air is damp. It rained the day before, and her hair, despite her attempt to tie it up in a high ponytail, is all over the place, loose frizzy curls falling around her face. He almost blurts it out right there, that he loves her, but she looks like she wants to say something and he waits, his heart racing and his hands trembling.

His eyes travel down to the book she's holding. He notices that her hands are shaking too and he wonders if she's cold. He is about to ask her when she finally speaks, her voice barely a whisper.

"Happy birthday."

He is speechless and completely astonished. He doesn't know why really. She is brilliant and has been the one to keep track of everything, of course she would know today's date and would remember.

He opens and closes his mouth, unable to utter a sound. Their eyes finally meet. Her stare is warm and gentle, and he wants to cry and dance and hug her, because he missed her. She hasn't looked at him like that since _before_ and he feels like his heart is about to explode.

She looks back down, her voice clearer yet uncertain.

"I don't have any- I- I mean, I don't have a gift for you, I can't even bake a cake..."

He hastily grabs her hand on top of her book, her eyes dart back up. She hasn't pushed him away. He wants to tell her that this moment is everything he could ever ask and more.

"That's- that's alright, I- I don't care. I mean, thank you," he tells her kindly instead, tempting a small smile and overjoyed when she smiles back, it's small, but he sees it.

He doesn't know how long they stay, his hand holding hers, and their eyes locked together, but he doesn't dare to move or blink. He feels her thumb lightly brushing his hand and he almost believe he's imagining it. He can't help but look down at their hands in disbelief.

Then, she clears her throat, her hand loosing its grip on his.

"Right, er- sorry," he says, reluctantly removing his hand from her lap.

"That's alright," she blushes and her eyes fall back to the book she's been holding. "Actually I was thinking, it's not much, but maybe I could read to you. You know as a birthday gift. I know you don't like to read that much but-"

"That'd be great!" he cuts her off, too happy to hear her voice for longer than a few minutes and not focused on what the next step of their mission should be for once.

"Right," she smiles, bigger this time, but it barely lasts a second.

He forces himself to train his eyes back to the forest in front of them and stop looking at her. He doesn't want to push his luck too far and do something like kiss her, even if he desperately wants to. He knows he can't, not just yet.

"Just- just don't think this change anything," her voice is suddenly colder, restrained and composed, and he mentally shakes himself for believing it would have been so easy. He nods painfully, not daring to look at her as he senses her moving next to him, putting some distance between them.

She clears her throat once again, and he almost detects a trace of nervousness in her voice when she reads the title of the story.

"Babbitty Rabbitty and her Cackling Stump."

His head snaps back to her, his vision blurring in understanding. She raises her face and he looks at her with so much adoration that he is sure she knows how he feels for her.

He grabs her wrist and chokes out words of thanks, she shrugs shyly before returning to the book and beginning to read his favourite childhood story.

"_A long time ago, in a far-off land, there lived a foolish king who decided that he alone should have the power of magic..._"


End file.
